Of Feathers and Bricks
by silenced lambs
Summary: Deidara, in a petulant mood, poses a rather interesting question to Sasori. Crackfic.


**Title:** Of Feathers and Bricks

**Rating:** PG

**Summary:** Deidara, in a petulant mood, poses a rather interesting question to a long-suffering Sasori.

**Author's notes**: Originally posted on Livejournal. To those who don't know; stay in ignorant bliss. To those who know; to remind us all of better times...

**Disclaimer: **I do not own nor claim to own any part of the intellectual property that remains in the ownership of Masashi Kishimoto. No income or revenue is generated from the posting of this story.

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Well, Deidara's art sucked. Actually, everything sucked. He glared crossly out the window at the grey skies and heavy rain. And here they were, stuck in a little out of the way inn, cold, wet and half-naked. Well, Deidara was, anyway. Not that Sasori would care. Sasori never paid any attention to him…yeah.

He huffed and stomped over to retrieve a blanket and wrapped it securely around his shivering form. 'It's freezing in here, un!' he grumbled. Sasori didn't even give an obligatory grunt in reply as he tinkered with one of his infernal puppets. _Fine, Sasori-danna didn't even care that they got caught in the rain and he was freezing to death and his hair was wet and his art sucked._

He sat down and began moulding a piece of clay. Another bird. Perhaps he wouldn't make complete art out of this one…yet. Slowly, the intricate sculpture formed complete with feathers. 'Un!' he snarled, and almost began to sulk again before he decided to change tactics. Maybe he had hurt it's feelings or something. 'I'm sorry, un,' he told it. 'It's just raining, un and I'm stuck in here and Sasori-danna is being annoying and he won't let me make art of this place…un.' He shivered with delight at the thought of the enveloping flames, the blood splatters…

Sasori, despite his appearance, was listening to the brat with half an ear once he began talking to one of his _clay_ birds. Talking? Honestly, in his opinion, Deidara could be worse than a woman when he got into a sulk. Sasori knew that this time, it was probably something about how much Deidara's art sucked, maybe he should just give up art, etc.

And this thing about getting wet? The way Deidara acted, it was as if he was made of sugar or something. Perhaps it was something to do with Deidara and his hair. He turned his attention back to his puppet. Didn't the brat know he needed_ quiet_ in here? He didn't exactly join the Akatsuki to make lifelong friends.

Deidara's bird was looking better. Marginally, anyway. He studied the intricate pattern of feathering on the bird, and looked at it again. Feathers…and clay…

'Sasori-danna.'

'What is it, Deidara?' asked Sasori curtly. _This had better be good,_ he thought. _Or else that brat isn't going to be doing any 'art' tomorrow, or the day after._

'Would you,' he paused dramatically, deadly serious, 'rather be crushed by a ton of bricks or a ton of feathers?'

_What the hell…_Sasori covered up his disbelief by staring disdainfully at a spot somewhere beyond Deidara's shoulder. 'And why, pray tell, will we ever need to know the answer to this ridiculous question that is interrupting my concentration?'

'Which would you rather, un?' asked Deidara loudly.

'You know, Deidara…before you came along, I used to have utmost patience with life?' said Sasori exasperatedly, wondering if this was some elaborate joke.

'Are you saying you think my art sucks? Un? At least mine's art! What about yours, un?' said Deidara looking hurt and angry, his blond hair seeming to stand up like a crest.

_Oh dear sweet Lord, here we go_, Sasori sighed mentally. Since when had he said he didn't like Deidara's art? It wasn't that he didn't like it, but perhaps the more fundamental question of whether exploding things was art, should be addressed. But he digressed, Deidara could be such a child sometimes – why couldn't he be _normal_ and _quiet_ like any other Akatsuki member? 'Of course not. Did I say I didn't like your art?'

'Yes! You wouldn't answer my question…un.'

Exactly how that related to Deidara's art, he didn't know, and nor did he particularly care to find out. It would take forever, knowing that brat. Perhaps it was one of those abstract questions. Clearly Deidara was in a petulant mood, and it might be a good idea to play along.

'Neither.'

'I told you, you have to pick one, un!' said Deidara crossly.

'I think I'd take the bricks. It would be like getting crushed by sand, and you might be able to escape.'

'No escapes. You're tied down, so you can't use puppets are any jutsu…un.' Deidara paused and gave him a funny look. 'And it would hurt more, un!'

'Since when have you cared about something like that? Aren't you the one who waxes lyrical on the inevitablility of things and insists on calling your rather large and unsubtle explosions some form of esoteric, eternal art?' said Sasori snidely, thinking of a way to end this rather ridiculous discussion as soon as possible.

The wind howled and the rain lashed violently against the window as Deidara flushed angrily. 'See! You don't like my art, un!' he cried heatedly.

Sasori definitely wasn't in the mood to handle Deidara's tantrum. Nor was he in the mood to unleash his usual foul temper on Deidara. 'I'm sure your art is appreciated,' said Sasori, evading the question. 'Which would you rather?'

'Feathers…un,' said Deidara promptly, calming slightly. He moved to sit next to Sasori on the floor, picking his was around the various bits of puppet clutter and abandoning his bird on the other side of the room.

_That was good_, Sasori thought. _Now, just to get this brat and his insufferable questions asleep for a while…_

'But with bricks, it will be quick and neat. No fuss and waiting for the inevitable and wasting time. You know I don't like to be kept waiting.'

Deidara's hair seemed to lower itself . 'What if the bricks are dropped one by one, un?'

'I'd then have time to kill whoever's dropping the bricks on me then, wouldn't I?' said Sasori, returning his attention to his puppet.

Deidara huffed angrily and draped himself over Sasori, demanding his full attention. Sasori glared at him, but let him stay. Damn brat knew when and how to push it.

'But feathers would be softer, Sasori-danna. It would be like flying, and the art would last forever…un,' he said whimsically, talking to himself more than to Sasori at that point. 'But what if they were dropped one by one, un?'

'We'll just have to sleep on the essence of eternal art, won't we, Deidara? After all, even though your patience is everlasting, I'm sure the art will leave a continuing legacy.' Deidara didn't even get the chance to open his mouth and ask him what the _hell_ he just said. Sasori smiled, satisfied. Some peace, for around six hours, anyway, to listen to the rain. Deidara could be so nice when he was asleep.

He wondered what the hell the brat was on about that question of bricks and feathers, as he put a blanket over Deidara. He didn't want to subject himself to another day of whinging should Deidara get a cold. Perhaps the brat would make more sense tomorrow.


End file.
